


Red Fire

by TheGirlWhoHeldOn



Category: Supernatural
Genre: ? - Freeform, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anger, Angst, Blood, Cuddling & Snuggling, Episode: s09e21 King of the Damned, Evil Dean Winchester, First Blade, Friendship, Killing Abaddon, Love Confessions, M/M, Mark of Cain, Mental Breakdown, Mistakes, Nearly Human Castiel, Punching, Twisted and Fluffy Feelings, Violence, all the, i guess, reverse crypt scene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-13
Updated: 2014-05-13
Packaged: 2018-01-24 13:48:25
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,701
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1607369
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheGirlWhoHeldOn/pseuds/TheGirlWhoHeldOn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Abaddon is dead, Dean is consumed by anger, and unfortunately Castiel is in the way.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Red Fire

**Author's Note:**

> So I wasn't pleased with Abaddon's death, and from the beginning of this Mark of Cain fiasco I've been desperate for a reverse-crypt scene, so...ta-da! First fanfic in months and unbeta'd, so no judgement please. This can be seen as platonic or not, your choice. Enjoy my lovelies!

Abaddon was dead. The year and a half during which she was alive seemed to last forever, and yet her final moments went faster then they had any right to. There was so much sacrifice during that year and a half, so many lives lost and sanity withering away, but it was all worth it. Because it was over. She was gone.

She had fought ruthlessly during the final battle. She kicked and clawed at Dean. She bared her pearly white teeth, and her flaming hair bounced gracefully as she moved like a whip. When she seemed to realize that Dean had the upper hand, she even called for help from her minions. None of that helped her in the end.

She went down surprisingly easily. No demon dared to come help her and no move she made could overpower her opponent. The Mark of Cain and the First Blade together just gave Dean Winchester too much power over her. He was unstoppable, and she learned that the hard way in her final moments alive. Dean had swiftly grabbed her neck with his free hand and immobilized her first. His teeth were bared much like hers were before, and his other fist was holding the blade menacingly. Before she could hit him, scramble away, _anything_ , the blade was going straight through her. Her eyes lit up in red and gold and her red mouth open in a gasp. When her body lay still, red began to stain her white t-shirt and her eyes went back to their natural shade of blue. She looked almost peaceful, despite the chaos she caused in Hell and on Earth.

Dean was still angry. Furious in fact. The blood he spilled hadn’t quenched his thirst. How _dare_ she die so easily? He sacrificed so much and that was all he could show for it? An empty body and a dead Knight?

He was _livid._

He fell to his knees beside the bitch, and started maiming her body. He flayed the skin, sawed into her to the bone, stabbed repeatedly until blood decorated him. It was everywhere; covering his thighs, his forearms, his chest. He could barely see through the red.

It still wasn’t enough. Nothing would ever be enough for him. His shoulders began to shake as his new reality seeped into him. He was doomed to drown in his hatred and bloodlust for eternity, and there was nothing he could do about it.

There was nothing _he_ could do about it.

The sound of a door opening made Dean’s head jerk up. Castiel walked cautiously into the room, his hair messy and his chest heaving. He looked so tired. “Dean?“

And that was all he had to do to piss Dean off. He was standing in seconds and quick to slam the door behind the angel. He threw Castiel to the floor, using all of his brute force and burning power to take him down. It was easy, which almost made him pause. He would have figured that even with his rebelling Grace, Castiel would still be duped up enough to take Dean on. That didn’t seem to be the case.

That made things worse.

When Castiel tried to rise, a soft and sad look on his face, Dean slammed his fist down with as much force as he could. It was enough to knock the angel over again. And when he tried to get up a third time, Dean grabbed onto him and brought him close.

“ _Why?!”_

“Dean—I don—“ Castiel tried to say, his whole face a mix of confusion and pain. Good.

“Shut _up!_ You don’t get a say anymore. Not after what you’ve done.” Dean screamed, punching him again. Castiel took it silently, which made Dean all the more furious.

“What the fuck is the matter with you? Now you don’t want to fight? In the past you’ve been real willing to jump into a fight. You’ve trusted anyone that came along that claimed that they could right your goddamned mistakes. But when the people who really cared about you, who told you to fix your own shit, by yourself, you flew away! You ran away from me because I told you nothing but the truth!” Between every couple of words, he swung another punch. By the end of his spiel, the angel was practically on the floor. Dean let go of him and watched him crumple. He hit the floor hard, and the man could practically hear the crack of his head hitting the floor. It was satisfying.

“The truth is, you’re a fucking failure. You were given a little bit of rope and you’ve hung yourself with it, and I’ve cut you loose, again and again and again. I’ve tried to overlook it, tried to tell myself over and over again that you’re allowed to make mistakes…but seriously? C’mon Cas; everyone knows that you can’t do the same shit over and over again and expect a different result. That makes you crazy a-and a failure and a worthless piece of crap. Aren’t you supposed to be the perfect solider? Follow orders and excel in what you do? Why couldn’t you follow me? Why couldn’t you trust me?!”

Castiel moved for the first time since the assault began. He sat up gingerly, and Dean let him. “Y-you taught me that—“

“ _Me?_ You’re trying to blame me?!” He couldn’t take it anymore; he slapped Castiel so hard he fell back to the floor. “Of course you would. Can’t take responsibility for yourself can you? Fucking pathetic.”

“Please…” Castiel whimpered on the floor.

“ _So_ pathetic…Maybe I should stop that. Maybe I should end your pathetic existence…it would make me happy. That way I wouldn’t have to clean up your messes anymore. Wouldn’t have to listen to you whine and talk about how guilty you are. You wouldn’t be able to screw up anything, ever again. It would be a relief.”

Dean didn’t know what he was saying. At least, he knew, but didn’t fully comprehend. All he knew was he was letting out all the frustration he had felt for Cas over the years. He was saying a mixture of lies and hidden thoughts that he never would have let see the light of day under any other circumstances. It was terrifying how fulfilling it felt to say all of it.

The angel was still lying on the ground, just taking all of it. The look on Castiel’s face told Dean that he was saying all of his worst nightmares.

Something in Dean wavered. The fire inside was quivering and sputtering, slowly burning out. All he wanted to do now was help Cas up and apologize for the rest of his life. But before he could, the mark pulsed on his arm, sending a whole new wave of anger and resentment through him.

“All I wanted was to help you. I wanted to teach you how to be free, how to live your own life. But you saw what you wanted to see and did want you wanted to do instead. And now look at you. Look at _me_. Look at what you’ve done.”

Castiel swallowed, and for a second there was nothing but a somber silence. But then, the angel was sitting up again and finding his way to his knees. Dean chuckled and made no move to knock him down again. It was too amusing to watch the once powerful being being reduced to a pathetic thing on its knees. It was hilarious.

“This isn’t you, Dean…” Castiel whispered gently. Dean froze. “This isn’t you! And I know, I know you’re in there.”

“This _is me!_ ” Dean screamed, his anger fueling him as he came forward and punched Castiel again. The angel held his ground, shaking but not falling to the ground.

“This _isn’t_ you! I—I know you’re in there Dean. Your soul is still bright, despite the red that mars it.”

“Shut up!” Dean yelled, lifting his hand and hitting Castiel a few times in a row. Blood was gushing down Castiel’s face from the many cuts and the broken nose he probably had. Dean wondered vaguely why he wasn’t healing himself, but he pushed it to the back of his mind. It didn’t matter; getting vengeance mattered.

Castiel seemed to choke on something, possibly blood, before continuing, “No…I know you can hear me…It’s me, Castiel. You needed me once, remember? You told me that we’re family, that my family needed me. You told me _you_ needed me. I never told you that—that I need you too. I’ve missed you and I need you and…I love you.”

Something inside Dean froze. All the anger, all of the red fire that had been fuelling him and turning him into an untouchable being, it no longer fed him. The startling, pleading blue of Castiel’s eyes seemed to freeze the flames. Then it all melted away, permanently extinguishing the anger he had felt.

Dean felt cleansed as he stood there, fist in the air and air whooshing out of him. Ironically enough he could finally breathe after months of treading through fire and smoke. It felt good…until he saw what he had done.

Cas was kneeling before him, bloody and beaten, and all of Dean’s own words came back to him. He wanted to be sick. He had thought those things, once. At his worst hours when he was so miserable and drunk that he would have hated almost anyone. But now…he knew what he had said was the farthest from the truth. Yet he had said it.

Dean’s legs weakened, and before he knew it he had fallen to the ground. He slumped, and felt soft sobs starting to shake his body.

Despite being entirely undeserving, Castiel leaned forward from where he was kneeling, and grabbed the shaking man. Dean tried to fight it, but Cas’ arms were strong and his chest was warm. And to be totally honest he needed that comfort. Especially from _him_. He needed the love that he thought was always missing. He needed the forgiveness that those strong arms provided.

And maybe now, they’d be okay.


End file.
